---

A second-handed poem with nothing to reveal,

Still 21 lines left and you are down to nil.

Study the scansion,

For lack of tension.

I’ m always purging air and then blow up the thrill.

Is nonsense understood ?

At least I wish I could…

You’re watching those prints that shouldn’t shine.

You’re reading essays without a line.

Cells of bright, trite paper, just burn to feel free.

None to say nor tell nor sell,

(Give) medicine to those who got the remedy.

Pick up a few good words and some threadbare ideal;

Add a conspicuous phrase to get run-of-the-mill.

Then in the distance,

Watch in abhorrence.

The smile I’m seeing now tells me it called for zeal.

Still paradoxical

Intoxicating, again I write my silent call.

You’re watching those prints that shouldn’t shine.

You’re reading essays without a line.

Cells of bright, trite paper, just burn to feel free.

None to say nor tell nor sell,

(Give) medicine to those who got the remedy.

-Nil –

You’re watching those prints that shouldn’t shine.

You’re reading essays without a line.

Cells of bright, trite paper, just burn to feel free.

None to say, none to tell, none to sell, no remedy.